


The First Time

by glacis



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-29
Updated: 2010-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glacis/pseuds/glacis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Sentinel Romance. Told from Ellison's point of view, following the lines of a Gordon Lightfoot song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

_The First Time, a Sentinel love story. _

I couldn't very well say I'd been bowled over the first time I'd seen the kid's face. I'd been too confused, angry, frustrated ... sure I was losing my mind. Couldn't say I'd been real thrilled with the short, longhaired wired hippie bouncing around the room to that weird tribal music. As for the intro at the hospital, the only thing I really remember was that voice. Cutting through the mass of confusion in my head. Focussing me as I hadn't been able to focus myself in a very long time. A small white card in long, capable fingers. And that voice running over ragged nerve endings like honey over a raw wound.

_The first time ever I saw your face_

Energy. He just burst with it, bounced with it, shone with it. Threw himself, literally, into life -- to save my life. The rush of air past my scalp, along my arms, as Blair Sandburg threw himself against my back and pushed me out of the path of a damned huge truck while I stood there like a statue and stared at a red blip streaking across the sky. Who'd've thought a frisbee could be so incredibly beautiful? Not to mention lethal. Oh, god, the look on his face as he stood on the curb and shook.

He glowed.

Was I lost then? Yeah. Probably. Too damned dumb to know it, or too stubborn to give in, or just plain blind to the light in front of my face.

I tried to capture that spark inside myself once. Grabbed hold of Carolyn in the rain and tried to lose myself in her. Or find myself, maybe. Thought she could be my anchor, and I desperately needed one. God, did I need one.

But I was looking the wrong direction.

Light, right in front of me. Beaming up at me from impossibly big blue eyes.

_I thought the sun rose in your eyes_

Slammed him up against the wall. How could I do that? He's tough, tougher than he looks I know, but I've always been careful of my strength. Hell, I've killed people. I know how strong I am.

He's strong, too. People forget that. I forget it -- get so caught up in the need to keep him safe. In the genes, he'd say. In my heart, I'd say, if I could ever actually say it. But I can't. So I just touch him. Reach out and make sure he's still there.

I don't know how long I've been alone. All my life, probably. Competition was beaten into me for as far back as I can remember. Gotta be better, faster, stronger, smarter. God, I hate that song. Yeah, I know it's got a good side ... but it sounds like Pops coming through in a pop song. Christ, what a mess. Lost me my little brother. Made me a damned fine officer, except I lost every last one of my men. Lost me my wife. Or did I ever really have her? She may have had ... fuck it, she did have a point. If I'd needed her during our marriage like I needed her that night in the rain (I thought) (but I was wrong) (So incredibly wrong) ... Okay. I never really had her.

Like I have him.

Like he gave himself to me.

_And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave _

_To the night and the empty skies my love_

I've fought my entire life.

I've never found a place.

I never would have guessed that a place could be a person.

And a guy, at that. Hell of a note, finding home in a man, in eyes that ground me and keep me warm. Keep me safe.

Blessed Protector my ass. The kid's got the wrong end of the stick on that one.

_To the night and the empty skies _

I don't have the words. I can't tell him that I felt like I was stumbling around blind before I met him, before he found me. That I was cold, and empty, and lost, and completely alone.

He found me. Thank god. Wish I had the words to tell him.

"C'mere, Chief." He's puzzled. No wonder. No warning, either.

"What's up, big guy?" Eyes always so bright, bouncy like he's got a steel spring in his ass. I have to close my eyes for a second at the lance of pain that goes through my belly when I see the mental image that brings up.

"Been three years. Want to celebrate?" Please. I need the extra courage. I need to lose myself in those big blue eyes and that bright warm smile and find the courage to do it. I need you, Chief.

"Sure!" Always so enthusiastic. "Whatcha have in mind?"

You. Here. Now. Touch you. Hold you. Feel you. Need you. "Thai okay?"

"Sounds great. Let me get my jacket." Watching you move is pure unadulterated pleasure. It is going to be a very long night. Please let me find the words.

 

Never knew that Thai food and red wine went so well together. It's light, like it should be, and you make me laugh, like you always do. So many thoughts running through my head I can't contain them all. As your hands fly and your mouth moves a mile a minute, I can't help the grin pulling at my lips. So fucking brave.

I was so scared. A madman held your life in a little metal box, so sure he would win, forgetting what happened to the real Galileo ... and the real one was one of the good guys. Your courage never ceases to amaze me, Chief. The elevator Macarena? You even made Simon smile with that one. You made me smile, and I was so scared I was practically peeing my pants. You know why Taggart had to get you out of that elevator? Because my hands were shaking too bad to hold you, my knees were too weak to hold either of us up. I was puking into a toilet in the penthouse security suite and Joel Taggart was helping you out of that death car.

You will never know how hard it was to stay the requisite eight inches from you as we walked out the door. Take the stairs, babe. Please.

"Jim?"

I don't care if it is a hundred floors. I never want to see you looking at me with that look in your eyes again, without being able to do a damned thing to help you.

"Are you in there, man?"

I blink, shake it off. You look so concerned, staring up at me with those ... god, I hate cliches. But you really do look like a puppy. You must do this deliberately.

Because if it's not, when you try, please please do try -- it's gonna rip me completely apart.

"Yeah, Chief. Just thinking."

"Not allowed, man, we're celebrating!" That same tease in your voice that made me jump three feet in the doctor's office. I love your hands. Wrapped around the neck of the bottle as you top my glass. Strong fingers. Broad palms. They only look delicate when wrapped up in mine.

They cover you well, though. Sitting on the bed, trying to hold yourself together after Maya left. I didn't know what to day. Hell, I never know what to say. Offered you pasta, that's what you heard ... offered you everything, that's what you were hurting to deeply to hear. Your image burned into my eyes, you know that? Of course you don't. But I'll remember the fall of your hair framing your hands, woven together so tightly the skin was white over the knuckles, shielding the pain, keeping it inside you.

Why do you hold the hurt so close?

You're talking again. You must be a joy to learn from. I bet you're a hell of a teacher. You are the most alive person I have ever seen.

"Sounds good, Sandburg. So what was it about the latest batch of essays that had you muttering about pollen and tree frogs?" Yes! Anything for that sideways grin, the laugh lines deepening around those eyes.

"You hear everything!" The buddy, the Guide, the friend teasing me. Not everything, Chief. I've only ever heard you moan when you were hurt. You launch into a bubbling torrent of explanation, sketching in your stories with your hands, telling it with your whole body.

I've only ever heard you moan when it hurt. You were crying, inside, at the fire people, so determined to protect everyone, lost in a golden haze that I should have protected you from. The observer sucked into the worst of the action, out of your mind on a drug that was aimed at me. Did I ever tell you how impressed I was at your laser pointer? Probably not. I don't thank you enough, I know that. But for that one moment, when the pain in your voice gave way to my reassurances, and you slid into my arms ... I would do anything to protect you, Blair. But that was one of the sweetest moments of my life. I couldn't see you, could only feel you, hear you. Touch you. I want to touch you so badly.

Didn't hear what you said, but your mouth has stopped moving, and that wonderful waterfall of words has stopped. I grin, at a loss, but you're used to that, too. Aren't you. So I do what I always do.

I touch you.

You stumble over your words, looking at my hand on your wrist. I slowly draw it away. Can I help it if my skin doesn't want to leave yours?

Time to go home now, I think.

 

You were quiet all the way home. I saw you, glancing over at me. You know I did. How could I miss it? Resolve in the tight way you hold your mouth, the stiffness in your shoulders. Oh, Christ, Chief, please don't let me mess this up.

Always do when I'm on my own, you know that. Don't leave me on my own?

_The first time ever I kissed your mouth _

_I felt the earth turn in my hand_

Standing, staring, in the half-darkness of the loft. I can see you as clearly as if it was daylight. You stare at me, your eyes, they're like slate. Can slate be warm? Underneath the shield, I can see ... heat.

God, yes. Please.

One finger. I touch you with just one finger. You whisper.

Yes, I'm sure. Never been more sure of anything, ever. The rest of my hand cups your chin, lifting that face up to mine. I bend down, no use straining your neck here. It feels like my hand is someone else's, not even part of my own body. The slate dissolves into the heat.

Your mouth is like honey. Warm, reflecting the heat from your eyes. Soft, wide, so sweet. Suddenly, all the nerves in my body go numb, all the sensation I can feel is your tongue, your lips, sucking at mine. Pulling my tongue into your mouth, suckling it. I hear a moan, feel it vibrate under my tongue, rising from your throat. Rising from mine? I can't tell. My senses have melted together like that honey. Under my hand, I feel the muscles move under your skin as your jaw works. All the tiny bristles of your beard moving against the skin of my fingers. And there, under the pad of my ring finger, your pulse. Echoing throughout my body. Shaking both of us.

You are devouring me.

I am devouring you.

_Like the trembling heart of a captive bird _

_That was there at my command my love_

My other hand slides up your shirt. I have to pull myself back in order to have room to maneuver. When did we get to the couch? And why are you wearing so many clothes? Oh, yeah, right, it's February. Forgot. And you hate the cold.

We'll take care of that.

I have to breathe. You have to, too. Your heart is a triphammer under my palm. I didn't realize I liked hairy chests. But I do yours. Like?

Wanna crawl in and build a nest and never come out.

You whimper.

You really do have a nipple ring. You've always worn undershirts -- for such a free-living soul you're surprisingly modest. Not now. Passion makes you wanton.

It makes me greedy.

Clothes don't melt off, not really, but this is real life and care and desire and need can make do. You're boneless, sprawled across the cushions, as I pull the rest of your clothes from you. I drop a kiss on the point of your ankle bone and you moan again as my mouth moves up your calf. Never knew I liked hairy legs, either. On you, they look good. Hairy Blair.

I choke.

_That was there at my command _

For an instant I am on a dock, by a stinking hole of a pond in the middle of my worst nightmare. I can hear you but I cannot see you. I know I will be too late and it makes me insane. And he hurts you, he taunts you. He drugs you and he tries to takes you from yourself. You fight, but he very nearly kills you. A man without a soul, trying to steal yours. You have a phobia about dentists now and I can't help but shake when I think how damnedably close he came. You are whispering again. I force myself to listen, concentrating on that thread of sound that is the anchor for my sanity that nothing else has ever been, or ever will be again.

Yes. Bed. And Lash has no place in our lovemaking. For that is what I intend to do. I am going to make love to you, with you, for you. This time when you are in my arms it won't be because you're too drugged up to know why I'm cradling you. You won't be half out of your mind with fear. It'll be indoors, not on a hillside running from crazy men with automatic weapons who have already marked you. No one trying to kill either one of us, no rush, no hurry, no one else there but us. I suddenly realize I'm staring at you, both arms wrapped around your waist, hands clamping into the soft skin and hard muscle at the base of your spine. Not bruising, but very close.

Mine.

I also realize, at the same moment, that I haven't said a word since we left the restaurant. God, you deserve better than this. I feel like a caveman. I find myself smiling as I slide my hand up your back, along the curve of your neck, and tangle my hand in your hair. As I bury my face in the curve of your shoulder, I inhale deeply. Essence of Blair. I could track you through hell, blind and bound, by your scent alone.

"Are you okay with this?" I do love you. I will not do a thing you can't handle. But, please, be ready for this. I feel you smile against my cheek. The slight rush of air over my ear as you exhale tenses me like a spring.

"Bed, Jim. Now. Please."

Well, good -- I could croak out a whole sentence at least. You're down to monosyllables. Orders, at that.

We're wrapped around each other and up the stairs before you change your mind.

_The first time ever I lay with you_

Rules are made to be broken. I've never believed that. Lived by rules my entire life, first Pop's, then the Army's, then the Force. But ... you transcend rules. I've had sex with just about everything in my life. One of the things I didn't tell Newsweek about Peru. But I have only ever made love once. And as I lay you against the pillows and pull back the quilt, I begin to understand that I may not have even known what love was.

You glow, still. You shine, your eyes go straight into me. Your hands are everywhere, and I nearly zone out trying to feel each touch, trying to concentrate on you so this isn't over too fast. You distract me, and I catch your hands. You fight me, trying to reach, to touch. I cover your mouth with mine again and drown in melted honey and Blair.

_And felt your heart beat close to mine_

I can't tell the difference between your pulse and mine anymore. The rhythm is identical. Your hands cup my skull, I can feel each finger on my scalp, rubbing tiny circles, pulling my closer. You taste of salt and sweat and something elemental, sweeter than anyone has ever tasted. I can feel the pulse in your flesh as I take you in my throat, swallow, feel it surge against my cheek, feel your thighs tense and push under the palms of my hands. Your voice is growing hoarse from calling my name. I have to close my eyes to concentrate on the taste of you, the feel of you, because the sight of you as well will make me explode, and we're not ready for that.

I feel it before you do. The tension rises, fills, pulses against my mouth, under my hand. Heat falls off you in waves, the skin under my fingers is slick and hard and rough at the base, as the pitch of your voice strains and breaks. I'm lost in the taste of you, the shudder of your muscles under my chest as I hold you in place, force you to feel the pleasure cresting through you, share it with you. My hands slide on your skin, skidding over sweat and semen, wrapping around your thighs, sliding up to cup you, hold you close, as close as we can be. I want to crawl inside of you.

The hard jerking rhythm relaxes as all the tension seeps out of you. I gentle you with my hands and my body, kissing you softly as you curl around my shoulders. Your mouth grazes my temple, and I hear you whisper.

_I thought our joy would fill the earth_

Yes.

_And would last 'til the end of time my love_

"I love you."

_And would last 'til the end of time _

You open for me, completely relaxed still, as I gather you up to me. Guiding me now, in my own blind need, taking me into yourself. Filling you and filling something in me I didn't know was empty until you showed me.

It doesn't take long.

It lasts forever.

The first time, of many. Anchor. Guide. Friend.

Lover.

 

_The first time ever I saw your face I thought the sun rose in your eyes_

_And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave_

_To the night and the empty skies my love_

_To the night and the empty skies_

_*finis* *beginning*_


End file.
